The Ties That Bind
by jellyjay
Summary: For better or worse, but what else can we do? For better or worse, I am tethered to you.  Various ficlets written for fma fic contest on LJ. Pairings might vary, but mostly royai for now.
1. Prompt 86: Operation Break Up

**Title:** Operation Break-Up  
**Word Count:** 1 059  
**Rating:** PG-13**  
Characters:** Team Mustang  
**Summary:** It seemed so logical.  
**Warnings:** Mild Language  
**Notes: **Won first place for Prompt 86: "That's so crazy it just might work."

**Operation Break-Up**

Jean Havoc was not a stupid man – at least, he liked to think he wasn't – but when it came down to it, there was no denying that his latest scheme was, at best, really, _really _dumb.

(...Well. It was also really, _really _dumb to leave Mustang's team of puppies unsupervised and expect work to be done, thought Jean, but that had happened so he liked to think that Mustang and Hawkeye had it coming for not thinking about the consequences of their actions).

Still, as he leant back in his chair and propped his feet up against his desk, he congratulated himself for coming up with such an amazing – albeit _stupid_ – plan. He cleared his throat.

"I think we should break them up."

Of course, when it came to conversations like this, '_them_' could only be two people. Three pairs of eyes turned to him – one pair narrowed in a what-the-hell frown, another with a raised eyebrow in confusion, and the third wide and terrified from behind the glasses that adorned them. The pause that stretched in the office was expectant before finally, Falman had the sense to clear his throat.

"Your last fifteen schemes failed," he said pointedly. "Hence they're not even _together_."

Jean straightened, moving his feet off the desk and pounding a fist into his open palm. "Exactly," he stated as if it made complete sense. "If every single stupid plan I've ever come up with to get them together has failed, then logically, a plan to break them up will also fail, effectively getting them together."

There was another pause. Then Breda laughed heartily and pushed back from his desk. "That – That's so crazy it might actually work."

"Brilliant, isn't it?" snorted Jean loftily. "Crazy – but freaking brilliant."

From his place at the end of the row, Fuery gave a resigned sigh as the office door swung open to reveal the form of Colonel Mustang followed by Lieutenant Hawkeye's dog. "We're all going to die," he muttered.

* * *

The next time the team found itself unsupervised in the office, Havoc turned to the other three men and crossed his arms in front of his chest thoughtfully. "Phase one of Operation Break-up," he began, "is to convince Hawkeye that Mustang's an asshole."

Breda snorted into his coffee mug as he brought it to his lips. "Well, that won't be too hard seeing as it's true."

But Falman looked doubtful. "I know the plan is to break them up so that they'll get together and save us all from the obvious-as-all-hell unresolved sexual tension that lingers in the office, but you really think that convincing her Mustang's an asshole will be... beneficial?"

Havoc nodded resolutely. "Yep. It'll work."

The door opened and Hawkeye made her presence known by dumping the fresh stack of paperwork on Havoc's desk. "What will work, Havoc?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him

"My fountain pen," answered Jean without missing a beat and reaching for the first sheet on the precarious pile of paper. "You know," he said, looking up at her, "Mustang can be a real asshole sometimes."

Hawkeye scoffed. "Believe me," she said, "I know."

She chose to ignore Fuery's pained expression as she left the room for another errand.

* * *

"Phase two," whispered Havoc to Breda the next day as Mustang gazed absently out into his newspaper in an effort to ignore his paperwork, "is to make Mustang believe that Hawkeye's a control freak."

Breda frowned at him. "But he already knows that."

"We have to really stress it." He coughed. "Hey Chief!" he called.

Mustang turned to them lazily. "Huh?"

"You know, Hawkeye can be a real control freak sometimes."

Mustang nodded. "I know."

There was a pause. Breda raised an eyebrow at Havoc, but Havoc looked undeterred.

"You're her commanding officer."

Again, Mustang nodded, turning back to the newspaper. "I know."

"Don't... you think you should be the one in charge instead of her?"

"Probably."

"You should tell her," said Havoc knowledgably as Hawkeye stepped into the office. "Hey Hawkeye, the Colonel has something to tell you."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at them both.

Mustang didn't look up from his paper. "Hawkeye, you should stop bossing me around."

"Alright, sir," was her response. Nothing more was said on the topic.

* * *

After relaying the morning's events to Falman and Fuery who had been absent at the time, Falman sat back and crossed his arms in front of him.

"What's the next phase of your brilliant plan, then?"

Havoc hummed thoughtfully. "We make him jealous."

"Hawkeye, what do you look for in a man?" Jean asked her innocently one day. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mustang twitch and couldn't resist a smirk.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at him. Jean couldn't decide whether it was an expression of interest or a signal of warning, but the longer she held her silence, the closer he leaned towards the latter. He grinned at her sheepishly

From his desk, Mustang snorted. "She likes men who aren't you, Havoc. Now back away before she decides to shoot you."

"How do _you _know what kind of men she likes?"

Mustang smirked and said nothing more.

* * *

"It's not working."

"Yeah. We noticed."

"I think they're on to us."

"Yeah. _We noticed."

* * *

_

"So it looks like the latest scheme is to try and break us up." Mustang gave her an amused smirk and placed his pen down on the table before leaning back into his chair.

Hawkeye scoffed to herself but didn't look up from the papers before her. "So it is," she mused. "You think they ever get tired of constant failure?"

Mustang shrugged. "Perhaps we should just humour them."

She snorted. "And _actually '_break up', sir?"

The smirk grew. "Like a full on role play, Lieutenant," he grinned. "We can pretend we're really angry at each other to the point where you can hand in a fake transfer form and see how they react. Maybe they'll learn their lesson and _finally_ stop trying to pair us up." He paused and scratched mildly at his chin. "It's not like we need their help anyway," he added.

Hawkeye looked up at him and returned the smirk. "You know, sir, that is so crazy, it just might work."


	2. Prompt 87: Fruits Veggies

**Title**: Fruits. Veggies.  
**Word Count**: 169  
**Rating**: G  
**Characters**: Roy, Riza  
**Summary**: "Riza, what's a pumpkin?"  
**Warnings****/Notes**: Written for Prompt 87: Pumpkin

**Fruits. Veggies.**

"Riza, what's a pumpkin?"

Eyes snapping up from the paperwork before her, Hawkeye gave him a rather blank stare.

(It was a genuine question, alright? He _really_ didn't know.)

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know what a pumpkin is, sir," she said levelly.

There was a note of finality in her voice that told him he should shut up and carry on with his paperwork, and Roy squirmed and looked back down at his desk. The pause that stretched between them was almost unnerving until he heard his Lieutenant give a small cough and set down her pen.

"It's a fair question, though," she said. "I'm not sure what they are myself."

Roy stared at her. Riza shrugged.

"Legally they are vegetables," she told him, "Horticulturally, they are fruit." Then she pursed her lips and frowned at him. "Why?"

Roy smirked at her. "No real reason," he said absently. "I just wanted to make sure I haven't been referring to you as a vegetable all these years."


	3. Prompt 89: Who are we Fooling?

**Title:** Who are we Fooling?  
**Word Count:** 859  
**Rating**: T  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Summary:** He'd been drinking again.  
**Warnings:** Language  
**Author's Note:** Written for Prompt 89: Song Lyrics. Takes place shortly after Bradley transfers everyone.

**Who are we Fooling?**

He'd been drinking again. She could smell the alcohol on his breath before she had even opened the door for him that evening. His shirt was creased and smelt distinctly of the nicotine from the bar and his hair sat ruffled and unkempt, brushing over his forehead and hiding his exhausted, bloodshot eyes from her.

Riza gave him a tired sigh. "You can't keep doing this, sir," she told him wearily, stepping back and inviting him in.

Roy grunted and stumbled into the flat, his mess of a person seeming so out of place in her immaculate living room. He supposed, absently, that she was right, and that he _should _stop drinking his sorrows away and then disturbing her in the late hours of the evening and expecting her to fix his problems. He'd arrived on her doorstep far too drunk to be legal far too many times. It was a wonder she hadn't shot him already for his latest intrusion.

He fell backwards onto her couch with a muffled thump and waited. This was almost routine for them: in a moment, she would reappear from the kitchen with a mug of strong black coffee, hand it to him, and proceed to reprimand him for being reckless and stupid and for the abuse he had inflicted on his liver. And sure enough, by the time he managed to force himself to look up again, she stood before him, steaming mug held out for him to take.

Roy took it and looked into the murky depths to avoid having to meet her gaze.

The pause between them was suffocating, before finally, he heard her give another sigh and saw her fold her arms across her chest out of the corner of his eyes.

"To what do I owe the honour _this _time, sir?"

Her tone was biting. He winced.

"The bastard Fuhrer," he mumbled, pulling the mug to his lips.

There was another pause. He could feel her glare boring into the top of his head, waiting for further explanation as to why they had come to this again. He knew what she was thinking: the bastard Fuhrer was _not _an excuse for him to get wasted. He sighed.

"I need you to stop following me," he murmured.

He could hear the surprise in her voice, however subtle it was. "You want to try and run that by me again? _Sir_?" she added hastily.

He forced himself to look up at her. Her features betrayed no emotion, but Roy could read her better than that. The hurt and insult in her eyes made him want to look away again in shame.

"Who are we fooling, Riza?" he whispered. "If it's not either of us, tell me, _who are we fooling_? They know. They _all _know. And they're going to use it against us. Hell, they already _are._"

"And you think you can do the rest by yourself, do you?" she snapped at him coldly. "You think you can make it to the top and face off against those monsters without help?"

"I don't want your _help_," he snarled. "I want you _safe._ I just – " he cut himself off and scowled to himself, banging the mug onto her coffee table with more force than he had intended and began to pace around her living room. "You don't understand..." he muttered weakly.

"_I _don't _understand?_" she hissed angrily. Her voice was shaking and her fists clenched at her sides in fury. "_How dare you_? Do you _honestly_ – "

"Don't you get it?" he growled. He turned, seizing her shoulders roughly and pulling her to him. "Everything awful that has ever happened to you has happened because of me! Goddammit, Riza, _everyone _knows how much I need you and they know even better what will happen if you die because of me! You're being used as a fucking _hostage_ to keep _me _in line because even those _monsters _know what's going on and we're still beating around the bush, _and still, you insist on following me._ You don't understand..." he trailed off, releasing her shoulders a little and pressing his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes tightly and releasing a shaky sigh through his lips. "You don't understand... how much I need you to be alive..."

In the sudden stillness that followed his outburst, he felt her hesitate for a moment before she lifted a hand and brought it to his lips. "Sir... Roy... did you honestly believe I didn't know?"

"You don't," he muttered against her fingers. "Or you would have stopped following me already."

"You can't expect me to stop following you, sir," she whispered, "because I need you to be alive and I need to make sure of it."

"Riza – I – "

"There's no need to say anything else, sir," she murmured, pulling his face to hers and pressing her lips lightly against his. "We've fooled no one."

_

* * *

_

_Better or worse, but what else can we do?_  
_For better or worse, I am tethered to you._  
_And if it's not either of us, tell me,_  
_Who are we fooling?_

- _"Who are we Fooling?" _Brooke Fraser 


	4. Prompt 91: Compassion

**Title:** Compassion  
**Word Count:** 249  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Wrath, mentions of Roy, Riza and Al  
**Summary:** It takes Wrath a grand total of twenty-five seconds to plot Roy Mustang's downfall.  
**Notes: **Won first place for Prompt 91: Specific page/episode.

**Compassion**

"_Glad you're safe, Lieutenant."_

"_Worry for yourself first, sir!"_

It takes Wrath a grand total of twenty-five seconds to plot Roy Mustang's downfall.

Of course, it's been obvious. It's always been obvious – the man can pretend to be an ambitious womanizer all he wants, but Wrath is the Ultimate Eye and nothing gets past him, but he stands at the door way for twenty-five seconds – just to make sure...

"_Alphonse, I thank you for looking after my subordinate."_

"_Thank me later! We've gotta find a doctor!"_

The corridor is dark, he notes. There are scorch marks on the door frame. The stench of burnt flesh is everywhere and Lust, who has been assigned guard duty for the day, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there is an injured Colonel lying before his emotionally broken Lieutenant and a damaged suit of armour.

He considers offing them there, as he's supposed to; while they are weak and their defences are low, but he stops:

"_Yes... have a doctor check up on Havoc. Thanks..."_

Wrath smirks to himself. The concept of humanity, he thinks, is defined by foolish men – by those too weak to leave behind comrades and by those stupid enough to love. _Compassion_, he thinks. Such a human quality. So _pointless_.

"_Colonel? Colonel! Stay with me, sir! Hang in there!"_

And twenty-five seconds after he arrives on the scene, he sheaths his sword and steps down the dark corridor towards the surface.

"Fools," he mutters. "Compassion will be your demise."


	5. Prompt 92: Firsts

**Title: **Firsts  
**Word Count:** 500  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters:** Team Mustang plus Hughes  
**Summary:** "Do you all remember the first time you ever saw me use alchemy?"  
**Notes: **Written for Prompt 92: Flame

**Firsts**

The first time Kain Fuery sees the Flame at work, he's stunned.

They're in the office. He's just been assigned to Roy Mustang's squad. Having heard stories of the man, he can only feel awe as he stands in the same room. He's a bit bemused though – he hadn't expected the Hero of Ishbal to be one to procrastinate.

When Mustang's sure that his aide's back is turned, he catches Fuery's eye and brings a finger to his lips. Then he snaps.

The flames appear out of nowhere and all of a sudden, Mustang's paperwork is a pile of ash.

* * *

The first time Vato Falman watches the Flame in action, he is shocked.

They are in the shade and soaked to the bone. Mustang is moping. Apparently, insurgents, a little rain and Hawkeye are enough to leave dents in his ego. The others are sniggering, so Falman feels safe knowing that he isn't the only one amused.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye fishes another pair of gloves from her pocket and hands them to him with an impish smirk. Scowling at her, he snatches at them.

Then he shoots them all a childish glare and snaps.

Suddenly, the situation is much less funny.

* * *

The first time Heymans Breda and Jean Havoc irritate the Flame enough to make him snap, they are terrified.

They're drinking. Hughes is with them too. Turns out, he likes to mess with Mustang as much as they do. They're talking about Hawkeye.

"Y'know what, Roy? You should jusht marry her," slurs Maes.

Mustang is twitching. They choose to ignore it.

Havoc nods drunkenly. "It's not like its any secret anyway," he quips.

"We all know you're in luuuuuurve – "

Here, Mustang snaps. Literally.

Havoc and Breda decide together, right there and then, that annoying Mustang just isn't worth it.

* * *

The first time Riza Hawkeye witnesses what the Flame is capable of, it's almost a complete disaster. For him, at least. Riza remembers it as a spectacular failure.

It's a late summer afternoon. He's not the Flame Alchemist yet. She's only sixteen.

He grins at her broadly and holds up a pair of white gloves. "Look!" he says with as much enthusiasm as a five year old. "I had these made for the State Alchemy exam. I think I'm just about ready!"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure...?" she asks uncertainly.

"Yeah!" he nods, beaming. "Check it out!"

He snaps.

There's a small _pop _and an explosion of smoke. Riza waves it away, coughing, before she catches the look on Mustang's face and dissolves into a fit of giggles.

His eyebrows are gone. She's laughing so hard that she can't tell him he needs more practise.

* * *

One day, in the office, Roy decides to ask his team a question.

"Do you all remember the first time you ever saw me use alchemy?"

The five of them look at him oddly, their faces in varying degrees of shock. Hawkeye looks amused. They answer together:

"All too well, sir."


	6. Prompt 93: Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Title:** Baby, It's Cold Outside  
**Word Count:** 813  
**Rating: **R  
**Warnings:** Smut, language  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Summary:** "It's cold outside," he tells her.  
**Notes:** Based on the song Dean Martin's version of "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Won third place for Prompt 93: Cold.

**Baby, It's Cold Outside**

There are so many things wrong with what they're doing right now that they're actually laughing about it.

Roy's grin is infectious. It's biggest, goofiest grin she's seen him wear in a while – but then again, she thinks, it's been a while since she's let this happen. She's supposed to have more self control than this – she's supposed to be able to hold off for the both of them because heaven knows, if it were up to him, they'd _never _get _anywhere_ – but tonight, after the mugs of hot chocolate and the alcohol Jean had slipped into the eggnog at their little office party, she just doesn't _care_.

The part of her brain that's not completely out of control isn't making that much of an effort to get back in control anyway. She wants to think it's the influence of alcohol, but really, she knows she didn't have enough for that to be a viable excuse. They're both just high on the holiday spirit and she knows that she'll be furious at herself for it in the morning, but right now, who gives a –

"Fuck!"

Roy sniggers into the crook of her neck and kisses her collar bone lightly. "I didn't know you used language like _that_, Lieutenant," he mumbles against her skin.

"You're one to talk, _sir_," she snaps. To be honest, her state of mind is so messed up right now that even she can't tell whether it's playful sarcasm or not. It comes out as more of a biting remark, but with the way Roy's sniggering at her, she assumes that he thinks it is and decides that that's what it is as well.

Her hands are gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin leaving dark red crescents that will still be there tomorrow morning as proof that she let it get this far once again. His lips are working furiously at her neck, and she knows that she'll look at her reflection tomorrow before she goes to work and see it peeking out from under the collar of her uniform, and she'll feel stupid and all sorts of annoyed at herself for not caring right now.

She feels sticky with sweat – she's not entirely sure whether it's hers or his, to be honest, because the line between where she started and where he ended was blurred about an hour ago, when they stumbled through Roy's apartment doorway, pressed so tightly together that she's surprised they managed to make to his bedroom at all.

Then her mind stops working all together, and her back arches of its own accord; her legs tighten around his waist and her toes curl, and a moan escapes her lips in a pitch she hadn't realised she was capable of reaching. Somewhere in between her own cries and the fog of ecstasy, she hears Roy come too, calling her name hoarsely and slowing his pace before he collapses next to her, laughing a little as he tries to catch his breath.

"I must say, Lieutenant," he tells her breathlessly, "you've never performed so well."

"You smug bastard," she mutters, slapping at his arm playfully. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his chest move as he chuckles. For a reason she can't fathom, he hesitates a little before moving to wrap an arm around her waist. She turns and curls her body beside him so that he can pull her in towards him and press his lips against her bare shoulder.

They lie still for a little while, the silence broken only by the sounds of the kisses he leaves on her shoulder blade.

Finally, Roy sighs. "It's snowing," he says, lifting a hand to trace patterns on her bicep.

She can hear the smile in his voice. "Mm," she agrees, staring absently at the flakes of snow meandering past the window. The silence returns, but it's shorter this time, because the rest of her brain is suddenly awake and it's angry and lord knows, it's going to be a long day tomorrow because she's going to end up spending her day yelling at herself for being careless. She sighs. "I should go," she mutters.

"No, you shouldn't," he mumbles, tightening the arm around her waist.

"I can't stay, Colonel," she says, although she makes no move to pry herself away from him.

"It's cold outside," he tells her.

"So it is," she mutters. "But I have to go."

"You'll freeze out there."

The part of her that's still enjoying the warmth giggles in a manner so unlike her it's ridiculous. "People will talk."

"No they won't," he mumbles against her skin. "It's cold outside," he says again.

Despite herself, she laughs a little and turns her head to plants a kiss on his lips. "Yes," she whispers. "It is."


	7. Prompt 94: Asleep on a Plane

**Title:** Asleep on a Plane  
**Word Count:** 1 100  
**Rating: **G  
**Warnings:** Minor spoilers for the end of the manga  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza, ME  
**Summary:** Finally, Hawkeye coughs. "The girl's crazy."  
**Notes:** Won third place for Prompt 94: Realistic Self Insert

**Asleep on a Plane**

"There's a girl here in Central," said Hawkeye as she handed Mustang a file. "She's a civilian but they're calling her some sort of psychic because, apparently, she seems to know a lot of things that are going to happen and a lot about the military in general."

Mustang considered the file and brought a thoughtful hand to his lips. "How do we know about her?" he asked, frowning up at his Lieutenant.

Hawkeye gestured at the file in his hands. "Edward ran into her, sir. He said that she knows a disturbing amount about his past and she claims to know a lot of the developments that have happened lately – including the mission to escort Maria Ross out of the country."

"What?" snapped Mustang. "How could a civilian possibly - ?"

"Edward also said she's quite eager to see us."

Mustang shot her a look. "_Us_?"

"Yes, sir," said Hawkeye. "I think it might be in our best interests to pay her a visit."

x

The hut was on the outskirts of Central. Judging by the state of it, it had been uninhabited for quite some time, and Mustang grimaced as he raised a hand to knock on the beaten down wood of the door.

"You can come in!"

Mustang glanced uneasily at his Lieutenant and jerked his head at her as he pushed open the door. Hawkeye looked as if she had rested a hand on one of the holsters she wore at her back. Taking a breath, Mustang stepped in first.

"Hello?"

"Oh. My. God."

The second Mustang saw her, he had a feeling there was no need to have brought his gloves. He motioned for Hawkeye to stand down. There was no way the girl could have been any older than eighteen, and the fascination on her features told him that there was no way in all hell that she was a threat.

"_You're_ the girl Fullmetal was talking about?"

She stared at them. "Oh. My. God," she said again. "It's you guys! I was hoping I'd get to meet you before I woke up!"

Mustang threw a glance at his Lieutenant who looked about as equally confused. The number of questions that exploded in his head was almost headache-worthy. "...Before you wake up?" asked Mustang finally.

The girl nodded at him eagerly. "See, there's no way in all hell any of this is real, and the last thing I remember before I landed here was getting on a seven hour flight to the Philippines – so logically this is all a dream." She shrugged and took in the state of the hut, bringing a mug of what looked like white coffee to her lips. "It explains how this mug never runs out of coffee, anyway."

"..._What_?"

She waved a hand at him dismissively and looked from Hawkeye to him and back again. "You guys should get married," she stated plainly.

Behind him, he heard Hawkeye sputter.

"_Married_?" choked Mustang. "Where on earth did that come from?"

The girl shrugged and took another sip from her coffee. "Well, you should," she told them lightly. "Or at least, Colonel, grab your chances to kiss her while you still have them – it'll save you a lot of trouble, believe me."

Mustang's back stiffened involuntarily and he felt the heat rising quickly to his face. "What the - ?" He shook his head and glared down at her. "Just – who the _hell_ are you?"

She almost laughed at him. "I'm just a frustrated fan who didn't get the Royai closure that she wanted. What can you do, right?" She shrugged. "People call me Jelly, by the way. No one bothers with my real name anymore, so you may as well."

Mustang frowned at her and glanced at his Lieutenant. "Is this kid for real?" he muttered.

"Sir, I think it'd just be best if we made this quick," she mumbled, refusing to look him in the eye.

Sighing, Mustang turned back to the girl. "Alright fine, Miss... _Jelly_, Edward told us you know a lot about what's going on in the military. Tell us what you know."

She considered them for a moment, taking a seat on a nearby crate and placing her down gently. "Well, I can't tell you _everything_ because that'd ruin it for everyone. Here's what I can tell you though – " She pointed at Hawkeye. "_You_ are going to have more run-ins with homunculi than everyone else, but for someone in your vicinity of awesome, that's kind of a given. By being the Colonel's love interest – "

"_Excuse_ me?" snapped Hawkeye.

The girl – Jelly – grinned at her. "You guys are nuts for each other and you know it. Anyway, you're going to get yourself in a _lot _of trouble which is going to make _you_ – " she pointed at the Colonel – "freak out quite a bit. Especially when you find out the deal with Bradley's son." She paused and thought for a moment. "You're gonna end up going through the mill, Colonel – it was painful for us readers too, just so you know. Except when you went apeshit on the douchebag who killed Hughes because he had it coming."

"You know who killed Hughes?" asked Mustang sharply. "Who did it?"

"Can't tell you," said Jelly. "It'd ruin it for everyone. Just believe me when I say that." She turned back to Hawkeye. "Also, purely because you go everywhere he goes – for better or for worse – you're going to end up through the mill too. Sorry guys."

There was a pause after the girl's prediction, and Mustang glanced from his Lieutenant to her again wondering whether it was a good idea to believe her or not. "You're crazy," he said finally. "You made all of that up."

Jelly smirked. "I'm not crazy. Just over-analytical. And maybe just a little bit obsessed."

Mustang studied her for a moment. "Is there anything you can tell us that will serve as proof that you're telling the truth?"

Again, Jelly smirked. "You learnt alchemy by seeing Hawkeye topless."

Mustang felt his face burn. Behind him, Hawkeye made an indistinguishable sort of noise of embarrassment.

x

When they left the little hut shortly afterwards, they left in an awkward sort of silence.

Finally Hawkeye coughed. "The girl's crazy."

Mustang made a noise of assent. "Yep," he choked. "Definitely crazy."

x

"Jelly, you gotta get up, we just landed."

Jelly stirred and glared sleepily at her sister. "Best dream ever," she mumbled, stretching her arms above her head and stumbling out of the plane seat.


	8. Prompt 96: Absence

**Title:** Absence  
**Word Count:** 499  
**Rating: **G  
**Warnings:** None  
**Characters:** Pinako, the Elrics and the Rockbells  
**Summary:** None of them come back.  
**Notes:** Won third place for Prompt 96: Growing Up In Risembool

**Absence**

The Elrics lose their father first.

Pinako's not sure about what happened – Trisha's not exactly clear on the subject. All the information Pinako has is this: one day, Hohenheim is a happy father with a happy family and a bright, happy future – the next, he's gone, and no one knows where he's disappeared to and the only evidence of his existence are the photos tacked on the wall in the Rockbell house and the boys he's left Trisha to raise on her own.

Trisha's not wholly upset about it, for some reason. "I'm a little disappointed that he couldn't stay longer is all," she tells Pinako. "But he'll be back. We made a promise."

"What about your boys?" asks Pinako.

Trisha offers the old woman a sad smile. "They'll understand some day."

Pinako casts a glance at the children in the corner and can't help but wonder if they ever will.

x

Trisha is the next to leave them.

She's sick. She's been sick for a while, and by the time Ed and Al catch on, she's counting her days on one hand. The boys are sitting by her bedside when Pinako enters the room, trying, in their own childish way, to be strong and resolute for their mother. They must old enough to understand the expression on Pinako's face because they excuse themselves and exit the room.

"How are you feeling?" asks Pinako, grimacing as a guilt twanged in her chest. The boys shouldn't have had to leave, but she doubts they'll like this conversation.

Trisha shrugs a little. "You'll take care of Ed and Al for me, won't you?" she asks.

"Of course," Pinako nods. "But Hohenheim should be here. For all of you."

Trisha smiles at her sadly. "He'll be back," she whispers. "But I won't be able to keep my promise. Apologise to him for me, okay?"

"What about the boys?"

"They'll understand," answers Trisha.

"They never will if you leave now," frowns the old woman.

Trisha says nothing and looks away.

x

Urey and his wife leave them too.

There's fighting in Ishbal and there are a lack of doctors. The military arrives at their doorstep one day to ask for their assistance. Winry's old enough to understand why but still young and naive enough to question why there is fighting in the first place.

"You shouldn't have to leave Winry behind like this," Pinako tells them, the night before they leave.

Sara shrugs sadly. "I know. But these people need us and we'd be ashamed to call ourselves doctors if we didn't do something."

"We'll be back," promises Urey. "Winry will understand."

Pinako grimaces. She's heard those words one too many times. She's disappointed in her son and daughter-in-law that they're leaving their daughter too. "Make sure you do," she says finally with a resigned sigh. "Or she never will."

x

None of them come back. And if there's one thing Pinako's learnt, it's this: the children don't understand. They never do.


	9. Prompt 97: Nice Work if You Can Get It

**Title:** Nice Work if You Can Get It  
**Word Count:** 893  
**Rating: **G  
**Warnings:** Minor spoilers for the end of the manga and copious amounts of Royai fluff  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Summary:** It's quiet in her apartment, and the first thing Roy spots is the little radio sitting on the coffee table.  
**Notes:** I was under the assumption they were both promoted after the manga.

**Nice Work if You Can Get It**

She lets General Mustang walk her home now, on the nights when work keeps them in the office later than they like to admit. His excuse is always something along the lines of "The streets are dangerous at this time of night," and she always gives him a _look_ for it because he knows full well that she's more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, though, he doesn't let that stop him – he can be particularly stubborn sometimes and other times she has a feeling that he does it mostly because it's an excuse to spend more time with her.

She doesn't complain. She'll never admit it, but she likes it – she likes having his company on the long walk home, and now that it's _allowed_, she's hardly about to reject the idea. They've spent too long in positions where they can want but never have and wonder but never know – and the chance is _there_ now, and she's not about to waste it.

So this is how the evenings find them: walking together – side by side now, instead of two steps apart – with their hands in their coat pockets under the glow of streetlamps and the silver of the moonlight against the deep blue sky. They don't touch, except for the occasional bump of their elbows and the rare brush of their fingertips – still accustomed to formalities and a little bit clueless on how to act otherwise.

They walk slowly and they talk quietly, wearing gentle smiles that mean more than they let on, and he walks with her all the way up to her apartment door before they bid each other good night and part ways.

Sometimes, Roy hesitates, and he looks as if he wants to say something else. Usually he doesn't and he shakes his head and he turns to leave.

Sometimes, Riza pauses, and she opens her mouth to invite him in but changes her mind at the last minute and, instead, thanks him for going through the trouble of walking her home and shuts the door.

She wonders which one of them will break the pattern first.

x

"I guess this is the part where we usually part ways, eh, Captain?"

Riza offers him a small smile. "That it is, sir," she says.

Then there's a pause, and she knows that this is also the part where he _almost_ says something else and where she _almost_ invites him in. Then, when she decides she doesn't know how to do it and opens her mouth to wish him good night instead, he coughs a little and looks away.

"It's nice," he says awkwardly. "Being able to walk you home, I mean. I like doing it."

Riza snorts a little, and this is where she stops thinking and she steps back a little. She nods at him – he has broken the pattern so that she doesn't have to, and now she feels as if she should at least do her part. "It's late," she tells him quietly. She's still smiling at him, and opens the door wider.

"Nearly midnight, in fact," says the General. He doesn't move and his smile looks a little hopeful.

She's still smiling at him. "Why don't you come in, General? A little tea won't hurt."

He laughs softly. "That would be nice... _Riza_... thank you."

x

It's quiet in her apartment, and the first thing Roy spots is the little radio sitting on the coffee table. He spares a glance at her while she's rummaging for mugs in the kitchen, and makes his way over to the couch.

"May I?" he asks her.

Riza turns her head a little and raises an eyebrow at him curiously when she spots how he's gesturing at the radio.

Roy shrugs. "You know how I like music, Captain."

She laughs at him and straightens to put the kettle on. "No, sir," she tells him with an amused grin, "I don't think you ever shared your musical interests with me."

Roy snorts and twiddles the dial on the front of the little machine. The radio buzzes and the silence in Riza's living room is broken by the sound of a piano and a woman's voice. "Allow me to share them with you now then," he says, holding out a hand to her. "Would you care to dance, Cap – _Riza_?"

She stares at him. "..._Sir_?"

Roy grins at her. "Just one before midnight?" he asks, putting on his best imitation of Black Hayate's puppy dog face.

Riza's still staring at him as if she's trying to regain control over her slightly gaping mouth. "Sir – I –"

She doesn't really get a chance to answer because a second later, Roy takes her hand and leads her to the space in her living room in between the couch and the kitchen counter. Then his hand is on her waist, and her hand is on his shoulder, and their other hands are clasped and they're _dancing_ before she's even realised that she's no longer in the kitchen.

"General Mustang – we – "

She stops. We _what_? She asks herself. There's nothing stopping them any more. There are no real reasons for this not to happen. They have waited so long and finally, _finally,_ the chance is _here_. _We what?_

"Yes, Riza?" he murmurs.

She hesitates. "We... 'We' sounds good," she manages at last.

Roy laughs, and he's pulled her in so close now that she can feel his breath against her ear. "That it does," he whispers, pressing his lips against her temple. "That it does."


	10. Prompt 100: The Waiting Room

**Title:** The Waiting Room  
**Word Count:** 544  
**Rating: **G  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Characters:** Sara and Urey Rockbell  
**Summary:** Urey is friends with a girl called Sara.  
**Notes:** Written for Prompt 100 - Canon Pairings (No. Royai didn't count. Just in case anyone was wondering).

**The Waiting Room**

Urey is friends with a girl called Sara.

Well. He likes to think he is. Mostly he just watches her from across the waiting room in his mom's clinic. In reality, he's never actually said a word to her and she usually sits quietly in the waiting room looking curiously over at the medical textbooks his mom keeps on the shelf.

Alright, so it's a work in progress, but it's a decent start at friendship, anyway.

One day, she gets up and tries to reach for the book on the nervous system on the top shelf.

Urey watches her. "Do you want me to get that for you?"

She looks his way and cracks a smile. "Okay."

x

Sara comes in every now and then with her dad for maintenance on his automail and one day, Urey feels particularly brave and takes a seat beside her. "You really like those old books, huh?" he asks her.

"Mm," says Sara, looking up. "I wanna be an automail surgeon eventually, but there's nowhere in this town I can learn so these books are the best I can do, for now."

A pause. And then –

"I'm Urey," says Urey stupidly.

Sara smiles at him. "Sara," she says.

"You wanna be friends?"

Sara laughs. "Okay."

x

One day, Sara arrives at the clinic in hysterics with her friend Trisha limping along beside her.

"What the – ?"

"Urey!" she cries. "Where's your mom? Trisha fell and – "

"Whoa," says Urey, holding up his hands. "Calm down, okay?" he tells her as his mother appears from the clinic door.

"What on earth?" Pinako starts, wiping her hands on her apron. She motions for Trisha to limp over. "What happened?"

Trisha looks dazed. "I'm... not sure..."

"Oh dear," mumbles Pinako. "Urey, stay with Sara, will you? Come on Trisha..."

They disappear through the clinic doors and Urey takes his customary seat beside Sara and lifts a hand nervously to her shoulder.

He coughs. "She'll be okay," he says. "I promise."

Sara looks anxious, but she nods. "...Okay."

x

When Sara visits again, Urey realises that he kind of really, _really_ likes this girl. She's smart, and kind, and pretty – no – beautiful – and lately, he's been finding it ridiculously hard to have a normal conversation with her.

One day, in an absent kind of word vomit, he asks, "You wanna go out with me?"

A beat.

"I – I mean – It's not like – Sara – are you _laughing _at me?"

She's sniggering, actually, and with every passing millisecond that she doesn't answer, his stomach plummets further through the floor.

Finally she claps his arm and gives a small, shy smile.

"Okay."

x

Years and years later, they're both doctors, and, just because, they're sitting in the waiting room for lack of better things to do. Out of nowhere, Urey pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket.

"You wanna get married?"

Sara blinks at him and cracks a smile.

Urey's grinning too, because has a feeling he knows what the answer will be.

"Okay."


	11. Prompt 101: Professionalism

**Title:** Professionalism  
**Word Count:** 678  
**Rating: **M  
**Warnings:** Sex (in a supply closet, no less)  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Summary:** Most days they are the image of professionalism. _(And then there are some days when they are anything but.)_  
**Notes:** Won third place for Prompt 101: Masks

**Professionalism**

Most days, they are the image of professionalism.

That's what they are after all; professionals – a Colonel and a First Lieutenant of the Amestrian Military who maintain strictly professional habits and relationships with no lollygagging in between. They are perfect soldiers and loyal dogs of the military and they present themselves to the public as such, in their crisp, perfect uniforms, wearing straight-faced, no-nonsense masks and expressions.

_(Then again, there are some days when they are anything but, and they find themselves in the supply closet with lips locked so tightly together that it's a wonder they haven't already melded into one being. Her hands have fisted in his hair, and his are working on shoving her shirt and jacket out of the way, and somewhere in the chaos, Riza wonders how it has come to this again and how they haven't already been found out and court martialled for Fraternization._

_Then his lips leave hers and begin to trail along her jaw to her neck and she forgets how to think all together.)_

They keep a solid distance of two steps between them at all times and they stand ramrod straight – posture never slipping and guard never dropped. She watches his back, like she's supposed to, and any business between them is exactly that – just business. They are never late, and they are never slack, and when they are sent to the field, they do their job quickly and diplomatically.

_(But keeping up the image is difficult, Riza reasons with herself as his hands wander to the waistband of her uniform pants. Sometimes, under a facade as heavy as what they put themselves through _every single day_, the restraint is just a little too much for them to handle._

_Inwardly, she snorts. She's kidding herself, she knows, because they are in a _supply closet_, of all things, and she's gripping a broom to keep herself steady while the Colonel busies himself with crushing his hips against hers. There's really no excuse for this kind of behaviour, and it's kind of pathetic that they've reduced themselves to this._

"_Colonel – " she whispers – and it's half because she's trying to bring him back to his senses, and half because his lips are working at her neck again and it feels so damn good._

_He shushes her and pauses to peer at her through the dark. "You'll have to keep it down, Lieutenant," he says smugly. "We're trying to be professional about this, remember?"_

_Riza groans and shifts a little in his arms. _

_Mustang sniggers and continues his work.)_

They don't ever drop formalities. To each other, they are respectful and conscientious, and they refer to each other by rank and nothing else. To everyone else, they are formal, diplomatic and polite. In uniform, they are representatives of the Amestrian Military, so they act in a manner that favourably reflects the strict, professional values of the Army.

_(She stifles her moans into his neck and grips at his shoulders as he presses her against the door, and it feels like he's everywhere; before her, around her, inside her – and in the dark of the supply closet, amidst the muffled noises they're both making and the sound of their short, gasping breaths, he whispers her name._

"Riza."

_It's enough to send her over the edge, and she groans his name into his shoulder over and over as his movements become quicker and harder and wilder._

"Roy. Roy. Roy."_)_

It's how they work, and how they interact, and how they live – professionally. Because they are professionals, after all.

_(They stumble out of the supply closet, straightening collars and tugging at the edges of their uniforms, reluctant to separate – reluctant to find their places again – him two steps ahead of her, and her where she can watch his back – and reluctant to don the masks of professionalism they force themselves to wear day in and day out._

_Riza wonders how much longer they can keep playing pretend.)_


	12. Prompt 102: Detention's a Pain

**Title:** Detention's a Pain for the Teacher Too  
**Word Count:** 717  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings:** Mild language.  
**Characters:** Roy, Ed, mentions of other characters.  
**Summary:** Some kids just weren't worth it.  
**Notes:** Won third place for Prompt 102: High School AU.

**Detention's a Pain for the Teacher Too**

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

So it had come to this again.

Roy rubbed at his temples and forced himself to stare adamantly at the papers on his desk. Most days, he came to work quite contented with his life, his job, and the world in general. Other days, he _really _had to wonder why he'd picked this career path in the first place. Because some kids just weren't worth it.

And Edward Elric was one of those kids.

"You know, Ed, if you'd just stop abusing all the equipment in the labs, it wouldn't have to come to this."

Ed threw him a defiant glare. "If you'd just let us do some of the more _interesting_ practicals, I wouldn't feel the need to abuse them," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

Roy blew a quiet sigh through his nose and kept his eyes locked on the exams on his desk. What did he expect, really? This was becoming routine for them, and it had been like this for the past five Fridays, so what the heck. Get used to it, right? Ed would be graduating in a year anyway.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

"I don't get it, Ed," said Roy finally, throwing his pen down and looking up at him. "This is one of your best subjects and you get consistently high grades in all your other classes. You're a smart kid. Why do you _insist_ on turning every lab session a danger zone?"

Ed tutted and leaned back in his chair. "Because all _your_ labs are _boring_," he scoffed. "Honestly, if you'd let us do some of the stuff Mrs. Curtis lets us do, I wouldn't be so careless with your stuff."

"And _what_, exactly, does Mrs. Curtis let you do that's so different from the stuff _I_ let you do?" asked Roy through gritted teeth.

Ed snorted. "Well for one, Chemistry's more interesting in general. Physics is boring as shit normally, but _thermodynamics_? That's just sad." He paused to scratch absently at his chin. "I don't see what I did wrong this time anyway," he added loftily.

Roy raised an eyebrow at him. "You set Ling's blazer on _fire_," he deadpanned.

The kid shrugged. "How is that _my_ fault if _Ling_ was the one being an idiot?"

"_Ling_ was taking notes," snapped Roy. "_You _were the one who knocked the Bunsen burner over!"

Again, Ed shrugged. "Details," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Roy gaped at him. "Are you even going to bother apologising to him?"

"No," scoffed Ed, and he snapped his mouth shut and went back to glaring defiantly at his teacher.

Roy made a noise of frustration and massaged the bridge of his nose, but he turned his eyes back to the exams that needed grading before Monday. The sensible thing to do, he figured, would just be to ban Ed from entering his labs all together, but the consequences of _that _would be Ed wreaking havoc elsewhere and he _really _didn't want to deal with _that_.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

"So how long are you going to keep me here?" Ed asked at last. "I promised Winry I'd taker her out tonight _plus_ I have an essay for Miss Hawkeye that needs to be done."

Roy gave him a look. "So you'll do the homework Riza sets you but none of the homework _I _set you?"

Ed shrugged a third time. "Your fiancée's scarier than you are," he answered lightly, tugging at a loose thread at the sleeve of his blazer. "You can't blame me." He turned his gaze back to Roy, who could almost feel the last of his dignity as Edward's Physics teacher draining away with every twitch his left eye made in frustration.

"Do you have some sort of vendetta against me, Edward?" he asked, as calmly as his voice would allow.

Ed hummed a little, tapping his chin in mock thought. "Yeah," he answered shortly.

Roy twitched.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

"I don't see why Al's not in detention too."

Roy groaned and introduced his forehead to a test paper. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	13. Prompt 103: Kicks

**Title:** Kicks  
**Word Count:** 250  
**Rating: **G  
**Warnings:** None.  
******Characters**: Al, Riza, Ed and Roy**  
****Series: **Any I guess, but I had the first anime in mind.**  
****Summary**: They bicker, and bicker, and bicker, and it's like Ed's ultimate goal in life is to make Colonel Mustang's life a personalised, living hell.  
**Notes**: Written for Prompt 103: Quip

**Kicks**

It's all they do. They bicker, and bicker, and bicker, and it's like Ed's ultimate goal in life – after getting their bodies back, of course – is to make Colonel Mustang's life a personalised, living hell.

Well. To be honest, it isn't all that hard. Usually, all Ed has to do to do it is walk into the same room and a hush falls over the other occupants like the calm before an all out nuclear war. Then Ed opens his mouth and all hell breaks loose, and there's taunting, and shouting, and all manner of insults and disarray. Al suspects that the members of Colonel Mustang's team have just learnt how to tune them out.

Sometimes though – most times, actually, Al can't help but wonder _why_. And today, he is sitting with Lieutenant Hawkeye outside the Colonel's office where, as usual, there's taunting, and shouting, and all manner of insults and disarray sounding from the other side of the door.

He turns to her. "Why do you suppose they argue so much?" he asks her wearily.

Hawkeye shrugs and brings a mug of coffee to her lips. "Birds of a feather," she says over the noise. She sounds amused. "You know how they can be. The Colonel can be just as bratty as Ed sometimes – and he's supposed to be the adult. I think they just don't like to admit how alike they really are."

There's a pause.

"They're just provoking each other for kicks, aren't they?"

Hawkeye snorts. "Yep."


	14. Prompt 104: Meet the Internet

**Title:** Roy and Riza Meet the Internet  
**Word Count: **498  
**Series:** Manga  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza, and mentions of a certain cow  
**Summary:** Exactly what it says on the tin.  
**Rating****: **G  
**Warning:** Crack and complete pointlessness.  
**Author's Note: **Written for Prompt 104: Web. This... makes no sense whatsoever. But this prompt was asking for it. It needed to be done.

**Roy and Riza Meet the Internet  
**  
No one really knew where the little screen and keyboard had come from. One day, it had just appeared on Colonel Mustang's desk, seemingly harmless and innocent, with a little plastic container of paper books and a rather curious note:

_Get rid of it._

Mustang raised a sceptical eyebrow and glanced from the note to the little screen and then back again as he heard Hawkeye enter the room. "Lieutenant," he ordered, without looking up. "What do you make of this?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawkeye blink at him. "It seems that this is..." she paused and stepped over to his desk, eyeing the odd contraption in a mix of caution and curiosity. "Actually, sir, I don't know what this is."

"Hm," said Mustang. "This came with it." He handed her the note and watched for her reaction.

She blinked again. "Perhaps we ought to do what it says, sir."

Mustang waved her off. "Not until we know what it is," he said firmly. And he flipped the little switch on the keyboard labelled 'POWER' and sat back as the screen blinked into life.

x

The paper books, it turned out, were a set of instructions on the operation of the odd machine and ten minutes later found Hawkeye skimming through a leaflet emblazoned with the words 'THE INTERNET' on the front cover.

Having instructed her Colonel to open something called a 'web browser', she set down the manual and looked curiously over his shoulder. "The instructions call this..." she glanced back at the leaflet, "'Google' thing a 'search engine'," she informed him. "I guess that means we type in something we want to find out and it'll find it for us."

Mustang's features broke into an odd, mischievous grin. "What do you suppose would happen if we... 'Google'd' ourselves?"

Hawkeye gave him a look. "I'm not sure that's advisable, sir," she began. "What if – "

But again, Mustang waved her off. "It looks completely harmless," he interrupted. "What's the worst that could happen?" And he typed his own name into what Hawkeye had called the 'search bar' and clicked the little button labelled 'search'.

x

"Lieutenant," ordered Mustang after an hour. He'd said nothing for a little while, but he looked rather disturbed. "It says here on this... _Wikipedia_ that we are both fictional characters in a manga called Fullmetal Alchemist."

Hawkeye frowned at him. "...Pardon me, sir?"

"It also says," Mustang continued, "that this... _manga_ is written... by a cow."

There was a pause.

Finally, Hawkeye coughed. "A cow, sir?"

"Yep."

Hawkeye snorted. "That's crazy."

"Yes." Mustang nodded resolutely. "The disturbing part is once you know that everything on this Wikipedia thing has so far been accurate – from your personal history to mine."

"_My_ personal history?"

"Yes," said Mustang. "I was there. And I just relived it."

"A... _cow_, sir?"

"...Yep."

x

Somewhere, in a studio in Japan, the cow sneezed. "Huh," she murmured, sniffling. "Must be hay fever season already."


	15. Prompt 107: Fatigue

**Title**: Fatigue  
**Word Count**: 250  
**Rating**: G  
**Character(s)**: Roy, Riza  
**Summary**: She only ever lets her guard down when she's certain that no one else is around to see it but him.  
**Warnings**: Fluff?  
**Author's Notes**: Written for Prompth 107: Invisible

**Fatigue**

She only ever lets her guard down when she's certain that no one else is around to see it but him – and even then, she never _really_ lets herself properly relax. If it were anyone else, they mightn't have noticed the difference at all – but Roy has known her for far too long to let the subtle slipping of her posture go unnoticed.

"Are you tired, Lieutenant?" he asks. He hides his smirk because he knows that he's the only person in the world allowed to see that she is.

Riza shrugs. "A little, sir," she answers. The evidence of fatigue is more obvious in her eyes than it is in her tone, but there's the hint of a smile in her voice that would be invisible to anyone who isn't him.

"Perhaps I should walk you home," Roy says, getting up and taking the stack of papers from her arms. "I can't have my bodyguard walking home by herself when she's dead on her feet."

Tired as she is, she huffs haughtily and takes her coat from the coat stand. "That's not necessary, sir," she tells him.

Roy looks smug. "I think it is."

He says nothing else, and it's easy for Riza to see that he's not about to let her win this battle. She sighs. "If that's what you want, sir," she says.

"It is what I want," says Roy, and they leave the office together; the ghost of his hand at the small of her back.


	16. Prompt 111: Flinch

**Title:** Easy  
**Word Count:** 138  
**Rating: **PG  
**Warnings:** War  
******Characters**: Riza**  
****Series: **Manga/Brotherhood**  
****Summary**: Riza hesitates the first time she fires at the enemy.  
**Notes**: Written for Prompt 111: Flinch

**Easy**

Riza hesitates the first time she fires at the enemy.

_It's easy_, goads part of her. _Just pull the trigger. That's all it takes_.

And then the rest of her wakes up and she feels ashamed that part of her even has the gall to think that. Killing people should never be easy. But she's out here in the desert at barely the age of 19 and pulling the trigger is _really_ all it takes.

_It's easy. Just do it._

Her hands are trembling. The rifle feels stiff and out of place. Her breaths are ragged and it catches in her throat. She can't breathe. She's going to kill someone.

She's going to _kill_ someone.

She can't do this. _She can't do this_. _Shecan'tdothis –_

_BANG!_

An Ishbalan drops in the distance. She didn't even have time to flinch.


	17. Prompt 113: 520

**Title:** $5.20  
**Word Count:** 982  
**Rating: **G  
******Characters**: Ed, Roy, Riza**  
****Series: **AU**  
****Summary**: This was... not exactly how Ed had seen his day panning out.  
**Notes**: Won second place for prompt 113: Modern AU. I have to admit, I _really_ like this universe, and I'm sorely tempted to expand on it.

**$5.20**

This was... not exactly how Ed had seen his day panning out.

He'd been sitting out here a while, guitar lying haphazardly on the steps outside the university cafe with his case open for business, and so far... nothing. The weather looked like it hated him too, and if it kept up like this, it'd be raining soon and he would have to go without what little extra cash he could have to keep himself going for the day.

"You know, people generally only give you money if you play something."

Ed scowled and glared up at the speaker. "Really, Mustang? Don't you have, you know, classes you have to lecture or do you make it a point to drop in on the mornings I have migraines to make my life miserable?"

Mustang smirked. "Come now, Ed, ten minutes of your time isn't enough to make your life miserable." He lifted a Styrofoam cup of what Ed figured was coffee to his lips and fished around in his pocket for a moment. "I am your professor, you know," he added lightly, pulling out his phone and glancing down at the screen. "Don't you think I deserve a little respect?"

Ed tutted. "You're also a bastard my dad knows, so the answer to that would be 'no'." He paused and glared up at the older man. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Waiting for Riza," Roy answered, sipping at his coffee.

Ed snorted and shook his head. "Still can't believe she can put up with you," he muttered.

"She finds me charming."

"You brainwash her."

Roy snorted. Dropping down beside him, he put his coffee down on the steps and cocked his head at Ed. "What's wrong, Ed?"

"_Nothing_," seethed Ed.

Roy rolled his eyes. "Try again."

Ed scowled. He would never admit it, but even though they were both bastards, the difference between Roy and his father was that Roy actually bothered to care in his own bastard-y kind of way. Hohenheim was hailed as that one famous researcher who was constantly flying to different universities for research that Ed should have been so proud of except that he was _never there_. At times, he had to wonder whether or not his father knew that he and Al even existed.

Roy, on the other hand, had been hanging around since Ed was twelve, dropping in and out with that smug smirk that made Ed want nothing more than to punch his face in except that Roy had actually been _helpful_ over the years. They didn't need his help – or so Ed liked to think, but in any case, they – _he _didn't want it, but if it weren't for him, Al might never have gotten out of hospital. He hated the thought of it, but Ed had to be honest; he really owed him one.

He'd been through a lot over the years – first the accident that had resulted in the loss of his left leg and put Al in hospital in the first place; then the three years he'd spent helping Al recover; and now he was here – in college at NYU – away from his brother, away from Winry and Granny Pinako – away from the only family he had and doing a degree at university he hated when he could be in Ohio looking after his brother.

The only reason he was here in the first place was because Roy had offered him a scholarship and Al had talked him into it. And when it came to Al, saying 'no' just wasn't possible.

Grudgingly, Ed blew a heavy sigh and patted his leg. The prosthetic one. "It's been a while since I've been home and my stump's starting to ache. That's all."

"I see," said Roy shortly, sipping at his coffee again. He paused. "Winry started Med School yet?"

"She starts next semester," grumbled Ed, shoving his hands in his pocket. "She got a scholarship for Ohio State University."

Roy scoffed lightly. "Bright girl," he commented absently. "You miss her, huh?"

Ed snarled and stared down at the pavement to hide the warmth in his cheeks. "I don't," he snapped. "It's just been a while, okay? And I don't need that from you when you check your phone every five minutes to see if you have a text from your fiancee. You're a grown man, for chrissakes."

Smirking, Roy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone again. "Five minutes," he said frankly, and as he put it back into his pocket, he finished his coffee and pulled his wallet out too.

As the figure of a woman with bright blonde hair exited the staff administration building, Roy stood and stretched his arms out in front of him. Then, digging into his wallet, he tugged out a crumpled bill and what loose change he had left and dropped it into Ed's guitar case.

Ed stared at it, but before he could open his mouth, Riza had appeared at Roy's elbow and was offering him a small smile.

"Hey Edward," she greeted. "You doing okay?"

Ed shrugged awkwardly at her. "Fine, I guess," he answered. "What's with - ?"

Roy took his own turn to shrug and shoved his hands back into his coat pockets. "Give that pretty pre-med friend of yours a call," he said, giving him a cross between that god-awful smirk and an actual genuine smile.

And with a small wave, he and Riza bid him good bye and turned to leave, leaving Ed sitting stunned on the university steps.

"Hey!" Ed yelled after them.

They paused and Roy turned back to him. "I expect that back, you know," he called. "You owe me. Five dollars, twenty. Don't forget it."

Ed stared after them and stared down at the change in his guitar case. "Bastard," he grumbled under his breath but unable to hide the twitch in his lips. "I'll have to get him back for that."


	18. Prompt 115: Big Fish

******Title**: Big Fish  
**Word Count****: **250  
**Rating****: **G  
**Character(s)****: **Grumman, Riza's mother, Riza  
**Summary****: **Eli Grumman tells outrageous stories.  
**Warnings****: **Spoilers if you don't know the relationship between Riza and General Grumman.  
**Author's Notes****: **Won third place for Prompt 115: Fish. Also, I've recently learned that I'm a massive fan of Grumman-Riza bonding. Why are there no other Grumman-Riza bonding fics?

**Big Fish**

Eli Grumman tells his daughter outrageous stories.

It's to be expected, he supposes – Elizabeth is his only daughter and he likes to dote on her and tell her exaggerated tales of things that have really happened and wondrous accounts of things that haven't happened at all. She's a growing girl, he thinks, and that imagination of hers should be fantastic and alive with the world and all its brilliance instead of hearing about the world and its sins from her war veteran father.

But Elizabeth is a practical girl. She's met a boy – Hawkeye or something – and he fills her head with science and alchemy instead. She grows tired of her father's stories, and to her, a world of fact is much more interesting – much more_useful –_ than a world of fiction.

She brushes him off now, preferring to spend time with that Hawkeye boy and she busies herself with listening to his dreams of developing the most powerful alchemy in the world.

She has no time for big fish tales.

_x_

"My mother didn't like them?"

Riza looks mildly put off by this. She hasn't known him long, but her grandfather is a wonderful man who tells wonderful stories, and she finds it hard to believe anyone could take him and his tales for granted.

Grumman shrugs, bringing a cup of tea to his lips. "Not everyone enjoys them, dear, but I'm certainly glad you do."

Riza smiles. "Between ourselves, Grandfather, I'll always have time for your big fish tales."


	19. Prompt 116: When Mortal Eyes Close

******Title**: When Mortal Eyes Close  
**Word Count****: **500**  
****Rating****: **PG  
**********Characters****: **Roy, Riza**********  
****Summary****: **"We'll be angels, sir," she chokes in a last ditch attempt to calm both him and herself. "Like the ones in the snow." **************  
****Warnings****: **Angst, Death******************  
****Notes****:** I kind of hate myself for writing this. Written for Prompt 116: Angel.

**When Mortal Eyes Close**

"Hey, Riza."

_Riza_he calls her. Funny, she thinks, all things considered. He hasn't called her that in almost two decades - it's a little bit odd but she supposes it doesn't really matter now.

Her voice is strangled when she answers. "Yeah?"

"Are you ready?"

His voice is trembling but quiet so that only she can hear. She doesn't blame him. This is kind of terrifying. A long time coming, yes, and she – _they're_surprised they'd gotten away with getting this far, but it's time now and she'd be lying if she said she was.

"No," she manages.

He snorts. "Neither," he mumbles. He fumbles a little – at least it sounds like he does – it's hard to tell with a blindfold over her eyes – but somehow, he manages to find her fingers and clasp her hands in his. "Remember when we were kids at your dad's house?"

Despite herself, she chuckles. It seems hardly the time to be discussing this but she has a feeling she knows what he's doing. "As if I could forget," she tells him.

"Mm. We made snow angels in the winter."

"Best days of my life," she murmurs.

"_Ready_!"

Roy grips her hands tighter. "I miss those days," he says quietly. "Sure, it sucked to be cooped up in your dad's basement looking over textbooks, but the snow angels were great fun."

"Yeah..." she agrees. There's a lot of clacking in the distance that sound like guns and her breath hitches involuntarily. "Colonel?"

"Roy," he corrects her.

"Roy, then," she amends. She's never called him Roy before. His name tastes good on her lips. "I have to thank you. For everything."

"For getting you in front of the firing squad? You must be joking."

She shakes her head even though she knows he can't see it. "No sir. You've done a lot for me over the years. Thank you."

"I should thank _you_," he mumbles, "for choosing to go through this with me. It's a hell of a lot less scary than having to die alone. I'm sorry I couldn't stop this."

"It's fine sir," she tells him. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

"_Aim_!"

"I'm scared, Riza." It comes out as a terrified, trembling whisper and it breaks her heart because she has never known Roy Mustang to be scared of anything.

"I know, sir," she whispers. "Me too."

There's a pause, and Riza suspects it's because neither one of them know quite what to say. She's shaking now – or maybe he is – she can't tell.

"We'll be angels, sir," she chokes in a last ditch attempt to calm both him and herself. "Like the ones in the snow. And Brigadier General Hughes – we'll see him again soon."

"You think so?"

She swallows again. "Yeah."

He pauses. Riza wonders for a moment why, but when he speaks again, she understands. "I love you."

She can't help it. She smiles. "I know."

"_Fire_!"

Their bodies crumple and there is silence in the air.**  
**


	20. Prompt 123: Books and Their Covers

**Title:** Books and Their Covers  
**Word Count:** 247  
**Rating:** PG-13**  
Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Summary:** "You shouldn't judge books by their covers, sir."  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes: **Written for Prompt 123: Forbidden Love

**Books and Their Covers**

"What are you reading?"

Hawkeye looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. "It's a book, sir," she answers shortly, and she turns back to it and flips the page without another word.

Roy studies the glossy cover with an expression of distaste. A 'book', she calls it, but to him it looks like one of those tacky dime novels with more sex than plot. There's a half-naked woman on the front clinging to an equally half naked man and the fact that the dull foil emblazoned across the bottom titles the monstrosity as _'Forbidden Love'_ makes him want to tear the book out of her hands and set it ablaze. It's not exactly something he expected Hawkeye, of all people, would want to read.

He coughs. "It's a romance novel," he says bluntly.

"So it is," Hawkeye replies without looking up.

Roy grimaces. He could have sworn Hawkeye had better taste. "'_Forbidden Love'_?" he asks. "Really?"

She gives him a look. "You shouldn't judge books by their covers, sir."

"Enlighten me then," he says. "What's it about?"

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow at him again. "An alchemist," she says lightly. "And the woman he loves but can't have because she wants to protect him and he her."

It's Roy's turn to raise an eyebrow at her. "Well, what's stopping them?"

She considers him carefully and turns back to the book. "I think you know, sir."

He winces and says nothing else because he knows he does too.


	21. Prompt 124: Forgiveness

**Title:** Forgiveness  
**Word Count: **509  
**Rating:** PG-13**  
Characters:** Grumman, Riza's mother, Riza (sort of)  
**Summary:** He's the only one to blame.  
**Warnings:** Spoilers if you don't know a huge amount about Riza's family.  
**Notes: **Written fro prompt 124: Dreams.

**Forgivness**

He doesn't dream often nowadays, but when he does, he dreams of his mistakes.

Usually what gets him the most is her face; young and beautiful and so like her mother's, but pained and terrified and unsure of what to do with the decision she'd been left with. Seventeen is far too young to be facing the world without guidance; far too young to be forced between choosing her father or the love of her life.

Grumman hates himself for it but it's too late. His only daughter is leaving.

He's the only one to blame.

* * *

He doesn't hear from her again.

He doesn't blame her. He'd failed her as a father when he forced her to choose between him and that Hawkeye boy. He'd thought for sure she would have picked her family, but really, who was he kidding? Elizabeth had inherited her determination from him – he should've seen it coming.

One morning, as he sifts through the newspaper at work, he spots her name in a little article near the back.

He feels his breath hitch in his throat.

Elizabeth Grumman-Hawkeye is dead.

He's almost too stunned to know how to react.

* * *

He dreams of her face that night and for years and years afterwards. It's usually always the same – she's beautiful and young, just like he remembers, but she's pained and terrified and uncertain at the sight of him too.

"I'm sorry," he tries to tell her. "It's my fault – I should never have forced you to choose – I'm so sorry, my dear, please..."

Most nights, she says nothing. Until, one day, she does.

"Dad?" Her voice is soft and tentative and ethereal. It's almost too much for his dream-self to take when she looks at him with no blame in her eyes, even though he knows deserves all the blame in the world.

Grumman chokes. "Please forgive me..."

Elizabeth gives him a gentle smile. "It's okay. I know. I have a favour to ask you."

"Anything," Grumman mumbles.

She chuckles and steps aside to reveal a tiny little girl. "This is Riza," she says. "Take care of her for me, okay?"

Grumman blinks. "She's... my granddaughter?"

Elizabeth giggles. "I'm sorry I was such an awful child – for never listening, and for picking Berthold over you. Riza's much lovelier than I ever was – you'll watch over her, won't you?"

* * *

"Uh... sir?"

Grumman wakes with a start and blinks as a dark haired youth enters his office nervously. "Ah," he manages. "Lieutenant Colonel Mustang."

"Yes sir," says Mustang. "I apologise for waking you but I have the files of the soldiers I wish to have as my subordinates. However if it's more convenient, I can come back later – "

"It's fine," he chuckles tiredly, taking the files from Mustang. "I was just... dreaming..."

"Can I ask about what, sir?"

Grumman stares at the top most file, breath hitching, as he traces the name on the cover. "I dreamt I had a granddaughter," he whispers. "And that I had a second chance."


	22. Prompt 125: The Advent of Democracy

**Title:** The Advent of Deomcracy  
**Word Count:** 949  
**Rating:** G**  
Characters:** Ensemble  
**Summary:** Your reading for next week's pop quiz.  
**Warnings: **My headcanon?  
**Notes: **Won first place for Prompt 125: Library

**Students,**

**The following text, courtesy of Central Library, has been provided for this week's reading on The Advent of Democracy. Next week's quiz will be based on it. Read and review before next Thursday.**

**Regards,  
S. Armstrong.**

**The Political History of Amestris  
An Excerpt from Chapter Six: Roy Mustang and The Advent of Democracy (pp. 234-235)**

...but despite the crimes he committed in Ishbal, Mustang's name has long been cleared and he is deemed now a national hero, for his roles in the Promised Day, the Ishbal Restoration and in securing the democracy of Amestris. He is otherwise known today by many names: the "Hero of Ishbal" and the "Flame Alchemist" among them, but whatever the name used, it brings to mind the image of the Fuhrer who led the nation into democracy and into an era of peace after the reign of King Bradley.

His climb is most memorable for a number of reasons: his reputation, for one, as the famous womanizer of Central raised questions of his integrity while some of his actions, for another, were almost worthy of court martial. Admittedly, one does begin to wonder how he got away with many of his 'stunts' – including the 'death' of one Maria Brosh (nee Ross)(1) and the 'kidnapping' of Anne-Marie Bradley, the First Lady at the time.

It is clear, however, that despite the rumours, the man did more for the nation than most other political figures. It was revealed, later on, that Mustang had gone to great lengths to secure Ross' safety after she was falsely accused and sentenced to death for the murder of Brigadier General Maes Hughes, Mustang's long-time friend. Mrs. Bradley herself reveals in her own memoirs how Mustang's kidnapping of her was for her own safety:

_I didn't expect any of it: the kidnapping, in itself, was terrifying, but odd in the way it wasn't a kidnapping at all. After we were ambushed by Central soldiers who claimed they were ordered to kill everyone save him, Mustang swore to me that no matter what happened, he and his men would protect me with their lives. And they did – for that I am eternally thankful._

_ (Bradley, A.M. 1933. 'Truths'._ _Triningham Books, Central.)_

He was, undoubtedly, a good man. Celebrated historian Elysia Hughes-Anderson wrote in her own work, her memories of the Fuhrer:

_Perhaps I'm being biased, in a way – [Mustang] was my father's best friend, after all, but there had always been more than met the eye when it came to him. It was strange, even to the ones who knew him best, how he could do one thing but intend something else all together. There was probably only one person who would have understood everything he was up to at once, and that was his wife and long-time aide, partner and friend: Riza Mustang (nee Hawkeye). No matter, for a war hero, he was an exceedingly gentle man who did what he had to do for the good of the country._

_(Hughes-Anderson, E. 1960. 'Lives of the Revolution'. Central University Press, Central.)_

Further, Mrs. Hughes-Anderson's account, among others, highlights a curious aspect of Mustang's life: that is, the presence of Riza Mustang. Not a great amount is known about her – only that she is present in one way or another in all of the accounts regarding Mustang's life and reign, not least as his wife, but also as his friend, aide and subordinate prior to gaining leadership of the country. It is oft forgotten that she was the granddaughter of Eli Grumman, Fuhrer prior to Mustang. What is known about her own story can be found in Eliza Havoc's _'Eye of the Hawk'_ (1962)(2).

Mustang's other subordinates are also reasonably known. Vato Falman(3) indeed wrote a book on his time with Mustang's team, while Jean Havoc's own daughter is responsible for the most informative biography on Riza Mustang to date. In one interview, journalist Mark O'Neill recorded the team as a 'mismatched but tight-knit family of sorts':

"_They won't admit it," Catalina told me later, "but they've been together for so long that they don't see how they could not be family. Mustang and Hawkeye are like parents and the other four are like rowdy little kids."_

"_So where does that leave you?" I asked, unable to keep from chuckling._

_Catalina thought for a moment. "I suppose I'd be the annoying aunt," she said at last. "Sounds about right."_

_(O'Neill, M. 1924. 'All the King's Men', Central Times Newspaper, 31 July, p.3)_

To an extent, Edward Elric is also considered as part of this team in that Mustang recruited him and, for his time in the military, remained under Mustang's command. Though there was some vehemence between the two alchemists, sources such as Elric's wife and brother assured curious minds that it was nothing more than rivalry between two overly confident men. Elric himself is a prominent historical figure in that he received his state alchemy certification at the age of twelve(4).

The alliance between Amestris and Xing, in fact, is a result of Elric and Mustang's collaboration with Ling Yao, then the twelfth in line for the Xingese throne(5)...

(1) See Brosh, M. (1928) _'Diaries of a False Convict'_. Triningham Books, Central.  
(2) Eliza Havoc, known also as Eliza Catalina (her mother's maiden name) has produced other biographies for the rest of Mustang's team. For the full collection of biographies see Havoc, E. (1970). '_Chesspieces'_. Central University Press, Central.  
(3) See Falman, V. (1930). _'Good Bishop'_. East City Press, East City.  
(4) For Elric's full biography, see Arakawa, H. (1964). _Fullmetal Alchemist._ Viz Ltd, Central.  
(5) See Elric, H.M. (1982). _'Siblings at War'_. Zhao Li Publishing, Xing.


End file.
